Distance

12

By this time, her visiting here got pushed back from August to...now sping break, all the way until April. Her parents wanted her home for fall break, and they most likely weren't about to let her run off with a girl from a whole different state, so, you know, I was disappointed, but not surprised. I was used to it by now...Which probably wasn't too good of a sign.

It was September, and I was about to start highschool, with Najwa starting college. I was pretty stressed out because my family kept on fighting with one another. My mom and dad would agrue almost every night and end up swearing and slamming doors and yelling in each other's faces. I honestly couldn't wait to start school to get a load of homework so I could escape in that each night. Especially since I'll get a bunch more because it's highschool...But since Najwa had started college before I started at my highschool, she was super busy already with coursework and we hardly got to talk to one another. I was patient, like I always am, but as time went on, I grew impatient...

I dont remember my first day of highschool very well; only that it was a bit scary, and that the summer program I did over the summer didn't do SHIT to help with knowing how the school is laid out. Because of my cerebral palsy, my schedule was specifically put so I could have the least amount of walking as possible. And even then, it was STILL a LOT of walking. I had Honors Biology first, then Gym (which I hate...), Algebra, Band, lunch, Honors English, and then lastly Civics, all in that order. I can't recall how my classes went, but for some reason I remember band:

The hour started with siting in our sections. How we had to sit was drawn up on the board by my director, Mr. Hoehn. Now, Mr. Hoehn had been the director at the middle school when my older sister, who plays the Tenor sax, went through middle school, so I knew the director pretty well. For my middle school band I was stuck with Mr. Christanson. And boy, did he SUCK. He didn't teach us crap about band or music theory and just made us play boring music. He'd argue with the students all the time, and the class wa schaos. I almost quit band the year previous to this because I couldn't take him and the class any longer, but I stuck through it because I loved actually playing. And I am extremely happy that I didn't quit, if I say so myself.

I play the Alto saxophone, so I looked around for Marcos, whom I played Alto with in band for the last three years since the sixth grade, but he was nowhere to be seen. Are you kidding me? I thought, Am I going to be the only Alto?! I started to panic, but I saw a sophmore who I didn't know sitting in the general section that we saxophones were supposed to sit, so I went up to him and asked, "Are you a saxophone?" and he replied with, "Yes...I play tenor." Well, thats better than nothing, right? With that, I sat two seats away from him. I would soon know this boy as Zach, and he became one of my better friends in other classes. Everyone in the room was busy trying to find their seats and asking Hoehn questions. I didn't have an instrument because I couldn't afford to buy one for over $1,000, so I had to rent one from the school, meaning that I did not have one over the entire summer. Mr. Hoehn announced that whoever needed a school instrument should come visit him in his office. I did just that, and a few minutes later I had my saxophone that I would use for the year. When I came back, instrument case in hand, everyone who had their own instruments were sitting in their seats. And I saw Marcos! YES! I rushed over to my seat which was two seats between his. "Dude! You're here! I thought you were going to another school!!" I exclaimed, totally giddy now.

"Noooope!" He said, smiling. In between us were two boys who neither of us knew. They were clearly sophmores. One had black hair and tan-ish skin, and the other had long-ish wavey brown hair and pretty pale skin, aside from some acne. I didn't think much of them at first, aside from the fact that they were older. And better at playing...

I would have replied to Marcos, but our conversation was cut off by Mr. Hoehn telling everyone that they had to make name tags for their stands so he knew who was who. On each music stand was a piece of paper and a marker that we could use. After I made mine, I folded the side of the paper that my name was on in half and proped it up on the stand. I peeped at the boys' name tags of those who I did not know; the one with the dark hair and tan skin was Israel, and the the boy with the pale skin and poofy hair was Hayden.